


PhDs and Pad Thai

by coffee_mage



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:23:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffee_mage/pseuds/coffee_mage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a slice of life set sometime post IM3 featuring our favourite science bros snarking at each other and bantering.</p><p>Based on a noun prompt from a friend: Hair, Tea Tray and Blossom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	PhDs and Pad Thai

 

“You’re not even a real doctor,” Tony groused as Bruce cleaned up the cut on his forehead.  

“Funny, pretty sure the PhD after my name says I can put a ‘Doctor’ in front of it, Mr. Stark,” Bruce said mildly, wiping blood out of Tony’s hair.

“Ha ha.  Very funny.  You’re not that kind of doctor.  And I’ll have you know that, despite me going by ‘Mister’ I actually have seven PhDs.”

“There is a limit to how much bullshit even you can spin to me, Tony.  Just hold still.”  Bruce started putting the butterflies on the cut in lieu of actual sutures.

Tony winced and then let his features settle into a hurt expression.  “Oh ye of little faith.  I learned how much physics overnight on my way to meet you?  I’ve written my thesis seven times over.  I just don’t bother to go to the award ceremonies, I have people for that.”

“Right.  Do I need to check you for a concussion again?”

“Flash the light in my eyes and Hulk and I will be having words,” Tony grumbled.  “I’m serious.  I can have Pepper pull the certificates if you want.”

“Okay, what are they in?”

Tony made a disparaging sound in the back of his throat.  “You expect me to remember that?  I was drunk for the first six of them and then I finally decided an actual engineering degree would be useful.”

Bruce fought the urge to make his gloved hands dirty by pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose.  “You got six PhDs while drunk?”

“Well… One I was less drunk and more really high on coke for eight or ten weeks, but pretty much.  The hangover when I finally let myself come down was not worth that.”

Bruce took a half step back and stared at him.  “You spent eight weeks high on coke?  How are you not brain-damaged?”

Tony shrugged, looking a little smug.  “Might be.  Doesn’t stop me from being smarter than everyone else.”

Bruce picked up gauze from the tray and taped it to the wound.  “There’s something seriously wrong with you, you know that?  Also, I peeked at your IQ scores.  They’re decent.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, which got stuck in the tape and he raised a hand to peel it off, only to have Bruce make a sharp sound and elbow his hand away.  “Decent?”

“Sure.  I mean, I’ve seen better, but you’re pretty smart.”  Bruce fixed the eyebrow mishap, then peeled off his gloves and turned to start clearing away the supplies.

“Oh, and you think you… Yours is higher, isn’t it?” 

Bruce turned back with a smirk.  “You sound disappointed.  What, not used to not being the smartest person in a room?”

Tony looked impressed.  “Disappointed?  I’m not sure whether to be ecstatic or turned on.”

“Pretty sure Pepper would have something to say about the latter.”  Bruce shook his head, smiling.

“Hey now.  I’m taken, not dead.  I am allowed to get turned on by giant brains.  That’s a thing.  I’m pretty sure that’s like, in the first time monogamist’s handbook or something.”

“Uh huh.  And just who’s writing this handbook?”

Tony shrugged.  “I’d do it, but Dum-E has more free time.”

“Yeah, sure.  Okay.  You should probably get something to eat.”  Bruce paused, saw Tony taking in a breath and shook his head.  “I know that you do not actually get nutrition from the suit.  That is a dirty, filthy lie and I will tell JARVIS to tell Pepper you’re not looking after yourself if you don’t eat something.”

“You know, I’m a very important man.  I have a job.  Many jobs, in fact.  I don’t have ti—“

“Yes you do.  You’re coming with me and I am going to make you food.  You are not going near your workshop until you have eaten because I know that if you do, I won’t see you for days and then you’ll come out when you’ve set yourself on fire, having survived off of what Dum-E questionably thinks can be called smoothies.”

“You’re not my real dad,” Tony snarked, rolling his eyes.

“Uh huh.  Come on and I’ll make you something quick.  Resist and I’ll make you sit and watch me prepare something that takes hours.”

Tony sighed in a very put upon manner.  “You are the Borg, I will be assimilated into your culture of healthy food and resting when I could be working?”

Bruce laughed and started for the kitchen, forcing Tony to get up and go with him if he wanted to keep snarking.

Tony stopped short in the kitchen door.  “Okay, I know I haven’t been here in awhile, but since when do we have a _tea tray,_ ” he asked, aghast.  “That is a thing.  Which is formal.  And which doesn’t belong in the land of quick eats.”

“Pepper and I do a nice mug of tea and an hour of yoga on the terrace at sunrise.  We got called out before I could clean up this morning.”  Bruce shrugged.  “I’ll clean it up after we eat.”

“Are you trying to date my girlfriend, Banner?” Tony asked, teasingly.

“Oh yes.  We have the best dates.  I prod her to fix her form until she gets into the right position and then you blow something up and she goes to deal with the PR and I go to see if you’ve ripped a hole into another dimension and don’t emerge again until you and I finish glutting ourselves on science,” Bruce deadpanned

Tony climbed onto a bar stool at the kitchen island and started swinging his legs like a little kid.  “But I’m your favourite, right?”

“Yes, Tony, you’re my favourite.”  Bruce pulled out some rice noodles and put some warm water into a bowl.  “Even if you do manage to cause more trouble before breakfast than a boarding house of 10 year olds without parents do in a month.”

“I have more resources.  My trouble comes from a place of privilege.”

“At least you know that.”  Bruce set the noodles soaking and started pulling things out of the fridge.  “I forget.  Are you eating soy this week?”

“Only if it’s not genetically modified.”

“You do realize that genetic modification doesn’t actually hurt the nutrition of the food and lets people grow food in harsher climates, right?”

Tony waved a hand.  “That’s all biology.  Buzzword of the food week is non-gmo so non-gmo it is.”

Bruce pulled some tofu out and added it to his stack of ingredients, rolling his eyes.  “That explains why I can only get this brand of tofu delivered to the Tower.”

“So?”

“There are other brands that hold together better.”  Bruce pulled out a cutting board and selected a knife from the block before turning to put a wok and some oil onto the stovetop.  “This is all just a fad, like your gluten free thing.” 

“JARVIS gave me the Spark Notes version of Wheat Belly.  I know what I’m doing." 

“Actually, sir, you refused to allow me to tell you the contrasting opinions and criticisms of the book,” JARVIS intoned with an air of frustration.

“I don’t have time for that.  How many people are fit into their forties because of that book?”

“That’s a matter of some deba—“

“JARVIS, mute,” Tony said.  “No interrupting other people’s conversations.”

“JARVIS is right.  You’re wrong,” Bruce said, chopping things rapidly and throwing them into the pan.  

“Hey, we can have this conversation again when I’m still a sex god at sixty and you’re still doing yoga on the terrace, hippy.”

“Sex god or god of corporatism?” Bruce asked, shaking his head in amusement.  He turned to the fridge and pulled out a bowl of cut up banana blossoms in water.

“I’m not eating those,” Tony said, looking at them dubiously.

“Well, they’re going in the pad thai and if you don’t like them, you can eat around them.”

“I don’t like them.  I’m not eating them,” Tony insisted.

“Are you five?” Bruce asked, giving him an incredulous look.  “They’re banana blossoms.  You like bananas.  You’ll like these.  I spent half an hour cleaning and chopping them last night so I could put them in my lunch and I’m not leaving them out because you’re afraid of them.”

“I never said I was afraid,” Tony countered.  “Just that I wasn’t eating them.”

“Yes you are.”

“You say you love me, you play with my toys, you live in my house and you make me eat flowers.  I’m not a bee.” 

“Uh huh.”  Bruce stirred the wok’s contents and poked at the rice noodles.  

“Though, that’s a thing.  We should study bees.  I’ll bet we could figure out this colony collapse thing everyone’s got their heads spinning about.”

“Pretty sure they already did, so we’d just be beating a dead horse.”

“Or kicking a hornet’s nest,” Tony said, grinning.

“You are aware that bees and hornets are two different families?”  

“Details."

“Damn that pesky science, getting in your way.”  

“You know, I could have had a smoothie and been back at work by now.”

“Give me another couple of minutes and you’ll get an actual meal.”

“Boooooring.  JARVIS, project the Mark 46 on the island?”  A lighted wireframe blazed into life in front of Tony and he started poking at it.

“I thought Pepper told you the kitchen was for food prep, not engineering?”

“What Pepper doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Tony said, spinning the armour and zooming in on a seam between the shoulder blades.

“What happened to ‘Pepper’s always right, I should listen to Pepper,’” came her voice from the doorway.

Tony made a hand gesture to close and toss away the lights.  “Pepper!” he turned and grinned.  “How are you?”

“Hungry and glad to see you alive.”  Pepper came in and kissed him on the cheek.  “Bruce, that smells delicious.  Is there enough for three?”

“I was going to bring some down to your office once we’d eaten.”  Bruce drained the rice noodles, then looked up and smiled at her.

“Oh good.  Tony, what did you do to your face?” she asked, eyeing the gauze.

Tony shrugged.  “Oh, you know.  Had a little bit of a navigation failure.”

“By which he means he ran face first into a wall,” Bruce said helpfully, dumping the noodles into the wok and stirring.

“Let me guess.  You were fighting with JARVIS again?  Tony, you really need to start listening to him!”

“I do listen to him.  I listen to him all the time, even when he tells me boring stuff.”

“Which is why he’s on mute right now,” Bruce interjected, pouring various bottles of sauce and sprinkling sugar into the wok.

“Tony!  I’ve told you before not to mute JARVIS unless he’s interrupting business meetings.  We talked about this.”

“But Pep, he was trying to prove—“

“Unmute him.  And listen to him next time _before_ you run into the wall.  Every single news outlet is going to be reporting that you were fighting supervillains while drunk by dinnertime.  Do you enjoy making my life more difficult?”

Bruce dumped the pad thai into bowls, sprinkled banana blossoms on top and threw a pair of chopsticks into each, sliding them across the island.  “Here.  Food.”

Tony gave him a grateful look and dug in, happy for the change in subject.

“Bruce, you’re amazing,” Pepper said.  “I don’t know how you manage.”

Bruce shrugged and tucked into his pad thai, smiling.


End file.
